


you make a cute couple

by pinkish



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Jealousy, M/M, Movie Night, Multi, Open Marriage, Polyamory, Pre-OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:52:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7330270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkish/pseuds/pinkish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PK visits the Prices for a movie night and has a hard time keeping his feelings to himself. Angela notices and maybe definitely does something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you make a cute couple

**Author's Note:**

> 1) this is for emily <3 i hope you don't hate it  
> 2) this is definitely wildly OOC because I literally know so little about actual!Angela other than she seems super cool  
> 3) there's jealousy and stuff in this, but no cheating  
> 4) please for god's sake someone help me i'm drowning in the hockey rpf fandom  
> 5) I love the gallys but hate the word bromance so I make fun of them here  
> 6) follow me if you wanna watch me flail over hockey boys moarheadcanons.tumblr.com  
> 7) I just learned andrew shaw got traded to the habs and i don't know how to handle it. nothing to do with the fic, I just >:(  
> 8) If RPF squicks you i'm sorry what are you doing here

PK watched as his friends snuggled up on the couch together, Carey tugging Angela closer until she was pressed up against his side. She whispered something to him that made his eyes sparkle and PK suppressed the jealousy that welled up at the sight.

Before they noticed something was up, he steeled himself with a grin and flopped on the couch next to them, laughing at Angela’s undignified squawk of protest.

“You guys ready for this? I’ve heard this movie is scary,” PK said, stretching out the last word and raising his eyebrows, “Need me to put a night-light on or something, Pricey?”

Carey rolled his eyes at PK, “I’m not the one who called me at three in the morning asking me to come over and unplug the television after we watched The Ring.”

Before PK could respond, Angela turned towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder. She looked at him, seriously, and waited for him to look her in the eyes. Then she pulled her hair in front of her face and started making ghost noises in a horrible approximation of the girl from The Ring.

“That’s not even _scary_!” PK protested as Angela’s laughter pealed and she got a high-five from her husband.

Before PK could feel bad about being ganged up on, though, Angela turned to Carey and said, “Don’t think you’re safe from me, babe -- I know for a fact that after PK called you that night you walked through the house unplugging everything with a screen.”

“Give me my high-five back,” Carey grumbled as Angela grinned at PK.

“Nope,” said Angela, exaggerating the end of the word, “high-fives are forever.”

PK felt something strange settle in his chest -- half jealousy, half contentment. There was something about being around Carey and Angela that hurt, but also felt -- weirdly right. He watched as Angela and Carey play wrestled, Carey trying to take back his high-five by pressing his hand against Angela’s, and tried not to feel sad. He was with his best friends -- he shouldn’t _want_ like this. He sighed, louder than he expected, and caught Angela’s attention. There was a look in her eyes that he couldn’t read, a tilt to her smile that was worrisome.

She stood up, asked if they needed anything from the kitchen, and, when Carey replied by pointing at the spread of popcorn, wine, and candy on their coffee table and raising an eyebrow, she shrugged and left the living room.

“Your wife is weird, Pricey.”

Carey huffed, “You don’t even know the half of it, PK.” His voice sounded weary, but he was smiling that smile that made PK jealous whenever he saw it directed at anyone but him.

Angela returned as quick as she’d left with a glass of water and shoved Carey into the middle of the couch, claiming the arm to lean against. She pulled her feet up on the couch and for a second PK couldn’t tell what she was doing -- only heard Carey’s pained grunt as he looked at her, accusing.

“Move, you lug,” said Angela, shoving her feet against Carey’s thighs to make him move closer to PK’s end of the couch.

“You do _not_ need this much space, Ange!” Carey complained, but complied, shifting onto the same cushion as PK.

PK took a breath, a little nervous but grateful that -- somehow -- his thigh was pressed up against Carey’s. “Let the lady be! She deserves as much space as she wants, putting up with you all the time.”

Angela laughed, but Carey frowned, then pressed himself up against PK even more, leaning until PK was pushed into the corner, with Carey lounging against him.

  
“If that’s what you want, PK, I’ll give her all the room she needs.”

PK tried to reply, but Carey slumped against him more, and PK couldn’t tell if he was out of breath because the guy was heavy (goalies, man) or because he had Carey’s body pressed up against the length of him.

Before the silence became awkward, Angela leaned across them both and picked up the remote, hitting play on a movie that PK had no memory of and wasn’t sure he’d be able to focus on. She leaned back, stretching out her legs and tucking her toes under Carey’s thigh, grinning at the sight of Carey almost-smothering PK.

They spent the movie like that -- Angela sprawled across the couch, Carey pressed up against PK, PK trying not to breathe, move, or do anything that might draw attention to the fact that he was a) cuddling with Carey and b) really fucking enjoying it. Based on the looks Angela was giving him, though, he thought maybe -- maybe she knew.

When the credits rolled, PK felt Carey shift against him and realized that he’d grabbed Carey’s arm at some point and had been holding on hard and long enough that his fingers were a little cramped. He looked up at Carey a little ruefully, “Sorry, man, I, uh --”

Carey interrupted him with a smile, “Don’t worry about it. Just don’t call me at three am.”

“Deal,” PK winced as he unclenched his fingers and stretched, trying not to pay attention to the drag of his body against Carey’s side, and then regretting the stretch when it meant he had nowhere to put his arm but on the back of the couch behind Carey.

“You putting the moves on my man, PK?” Angela said, a teasing note in her voice.

PK hadn’t _forgotten_ she was there -- she’d kept making squeaking noises at the quiet-scary parts and laughing when the jump-scares actually made PK jump -- but he’d forgotten that, well, that she was Carey’s wife, that he wasn’t Carey’s -- whatever.

“Oh no, ma’am,” PK said, exaggerating his horror at the accusation, “this one is _all_ yours.”

Carey made a noise of complaint as PK shoved his face away, but PK wasn’t really paying attention to him. He was watching Angela as her mouth made a little moue of disappointment. “Too bad,” she said, leaning her head against the back of the couch, “you guys make a cute couple.”

PK felt his face heat, afraid he’d been caught out, but not sure why this is how Angela chose to bring it up. But...she didn’t look upset -- she looked...thoughtful?

PK steadily did not look at Carey as he tried to figure out a way to defuse whatever was happening -- then he felt Carey shift and wrap his arms around PK’s waist, pulling him closer and pressing their cheeks together.

“You think?” Carey said, “The Gallys get all the attention, though.”

“Pff,” Angela waved her hands dismissively, “the Gallys are _babies_. And anyway, I didn’t say you guys made a cute,” she brought her hands up in air-quotes, “‘ _bromance,’_ I said you made a cute couple.”

“Hmm,” Carey said, loosening his grip on PK’s waist and leaning away from his face, something in his voice catching PK’s attention. There was a note of warning in it, like Angela was pushing against something she’d been told not to push against.

“What?” She fluttered her eyes innocently, “I’m just _saying_.”

“Uh huh.”  
  
PK watched an unspoken conversation pass between them, felt something bright and tender in the air, watched Angela deflate a little as she lost whatever mind-meld argument they’d had. All the while, though, Carey hadn’t moved any further away, and PK’s hand managed to find its way to the back of his neck. PK tensed when he realized this, and his fingers must have twitched because Carey turned to look at him. PK flushed, knew his eyes were wide, knew Carey could feel his heartbeat stutter, but wasn’t prepared for the way it would feel to have Carey _see_.

Wasn’t prepared for what he could see in Carey’s face.

Angela made noise of triumph and leaned towards them. “PK, I want you to know that I think this is a good idea.” She pressed a kiss to Carey’s cheek and stood up. “You two should talk, I think.”

Angela ruffled Carey’s hair as she walked behind the couch, then rested her hand on PK’s shoulder. “Good night, boys -- I’ll see you in the morning.” She walked out of the living room -- again -- and PK sat there, unmoving, hardly taking a breath as he listened to her walk up the stairs.  

With all the room on the couch, PK expected Carey to move away, but instead Carey pulled him in closer.

“My wife,” Carey said, voice a little strangled, “is a meddler.”

“Oh?” PK tried to keep his voice steady, tried to keep hope from causing his voice to waver.

“If this isn’t something you want,” Carey started, then trailed off, clearly expecting PK to answer.

“Uh,” PK started when Carey leaned back a little to look at him, “No offense, bud, but I don’t really know what “this” is...”

Carey smiled that god-damned smile of his. Small, but so full and bright despite the fact that it was only a quirk of his lips. “Right.” Carey took a breath, then laughed and rested his forehead against PK’s. “Right.”

  
PK waited a few seconds, trying to be patient, but Carey seemed perfectly content to sit there breathing the same air. “So, uh, what is this that you think I might not want? Because I, uh,” PK laughed at himself, “I don’t know that there’s a whole lot I can deny wanting right now.”

“Angela and I,” Carey started, then paused -- took a breath and started again, “we’re, uh, _open_.”

“Like?” PK asked for clarification and when it wasn’t forthcoming, “like open to new experiences or like, uh, open-marriage-open?”

PK felt more than saw Carey roll his eyes at him, “I’m not trying to tell you that Ange and I are, I don’t know, open to trying new cuisine, PK. She--” Carey huffed another breath, “I’m not great at talking about this, but communication is the keystone of an open relationship,” Carey said the last like he was quoting it. “We love each other, and we also love other people. Doesn’t make our love any more or less, and I would reallyliketokissyourightnow.”

PK leaned back a little so he could look Carey in the eyes, “Sorry, could you say that again? Because it sounded like --” PK was interrupted by Carey’s lips pressing against his, couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling out of him (happy this was happening unsure how this was happening glad it felt exactly the same as it always did when he was around Carey even though it felt nothing like hanging out with Carey).

Carey laughed too, so they weren’t so much kissing any more -- but then he took a breath and looked PK square in the eyes. “You do want this, right?” There was uncertainty in Carey’s voice and it killed PK to hear it. He lifted his thumb to stroke along Carey’s jaw, tracing the tension to his lips.

“Yeah, Carey, I want this.”

The last thing he saw before Carey kissed him again was a flash of pure joy in Carey’s eyes.


End file.
